


Darkness Of My Mind

by BigBirdSocks



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Dani Powell is a Good Friend, Gen, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Good Parent Jessica Whitly, Good Sister Ainsley, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, JT Tarmel is also a Good Friend, Kidnapping, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Mental Health Issues, Nothing major though, Psychosis, Starving, Woo wee these are a lot of tags, everyone is good in this one, from the whole family, mainly, psychotic episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBirdSocks/pseuds/BigBirdSocks
Summary: When found two days after going missing, Malcolm is not himself. He's paranoid and, more importantly, believes he's in danger. The cheerful, smiley profiler is gone, maybe for good, and his family doesn't know what to make of it. One thing is for sure, though, no one is safe from the darkness of their minds.Or, Malcolm Bright has a psychotic episode, and nobody has a good time.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Comments: 26
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> First of, I do not own these characters. Wish I did, tho.  
> Also, as much as my dad would have liked, I’m not a doctor or a psychiatrist. I did as much research that I could to get this right, so please forgive if I got something wrong, I do not mean any harm with this story, just to share some good times.
> 
> As far as setting goes, it’s before the Endicott situation happened. Also Eve is non existent. Idk. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this so much and can only hope you’ll enjoy it as well. Please feel free to criticize anything, anytime. I know this story isn’t perfect and would love to do better in the future.
> 
> Enjoy!

Malcolm didn’t know where he was.

Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter too much at the moment.

As he woke up at the same place he has been in for the last couple of days, he sensed that something was off. The same feeling has had him in its grasp ever since he woke up there for the first time, head throbbing, hands behind his back and legs tied with rough, unmoving rope. But this time, the feeling was pinching at his chest a little harder. He felt, though nobody was in the room, that someone, something, was watching him.

He had seen the man that brought him there, their latest suspect, Clay Skinner, a criminal psychopath, killer of his father and mother. Soon to become a killer of anyone in his way, Malcolm had said to the team. Which he now was, someone in Clay’s way, that is. What troubled Malcolm was the fact that the killer didn’t kill him. Yet, anyway. What he did was kidnap him, let him dry in a small room somewhere no one knew to look for.

Clay had come and gone, gave him water sometimes, no food, and never spoke. Not when Malcolm tried to talk to him, not when Malcolm tried to get free of the ropes, not when Malcolm sat quietly.  
He did watch him sometimes. Silently, from the corner of the room, and Malcolm didn’t know if to add sadist to the list of characteristics. Why else would he be here? Why else would he be watching him starve to death?

The stress of not knowing was as painful as the fear of Clay snapping suddenly, deciding that enough was enough, and stabbing him like he stabbed his parents, with anger and satisfaction. But not as painful as the fear of Clay getting his hands on his family or friends. He didn’t know, he had been in there for what feels like forever. What if Clay had gotten hold of his mother? Ainsley? Gil, Dani, JT—

He shut his thoughts out. He needed to focus on the here and the now. And here and now, as far as he knew, nobody was hurt. But he couldn’t focus for long. Not when the feeling that something was wrong grew by the second. He was sure now that someone or something was watching him. He looked for cameras in the corners of the room, but there were none. He looked at the door. It wasn’t closed all the way through, and though it was dark, Malcolm did make out the silhouette of Clay, watching him.  
He stared at him, trying to figure out why he was looking at him from outside the room and not inside, like he usually did.

“Clay?” Malcolm’s voice was hoarse, dry, and he cleared his throat. Clay didn’t move an inch. Didn’t seem to hear him.  
Malcolm kept on staring, and after a moment Clay moved, slowly, out of sight. Malcolm knew something was wrong, knew Clay was unstable and that he would break eventually, that— another movement from behind the door had stopped Malcolm’s thoughts. Then the door slammed shut. Malcolm stared, waited for anything to happen, when it opened, and slammed shut again, and again and again and again. Malcolm flinched each time, eyes open wide, ears straining because he swore he could hear shouting from behind the wall. With each bang getting louder, Malcolm’s heart rate picked up, anxiety creeping up on him like snakes curling around his limbs. He wanted to scream, pass out, disappear, anything to make it stop. It seemed to go on for forever, bang, bang, bang, and just when he thought it wouldn’t stop, it did.  
Heavy, shaky breathing came from deep within his lungs.  
What was happening? What was Clay doing?

Malcolm looked around the room, eyes coming to rest at the little toilet Clay let him use at certain times of the day. He tried to focus on it, ground himself, let himself relax. But he couldn’t focus for long, his eyes darting back to the door just to see that it hadn’t opened again.  
He started hearing shouts again, far away but somehow still close, still piercing his ears, his mind. The shouts turned into whispers. One stood out above all the others, and Malcolm recognized it immediately.

“My boy,” his father said, and Malcolm shut his eyes as if in pain, trying to reach for his ears to block them only to be scratched farther by the rope. “Got yourself in a little situation here, haven’t you?” His father asked, taunting.

“No, no, no…” Malcolm couldn’t handle him, not now. Not when he knew Clay was coming for him. Not when he knew that he was going to die. Paranoia settled in his chest, and he screamed, fighting to get out of his restraints. He knew it was hopeless, yet he struggled. He didn’t hear when the door opened, or see the butt of a gun heading for his temple.

When they realized Malcolm was missing, Gil had tried to stay calm.  
He really, truly did. But it has been two days since anyone saw him, and their best suspect, Clay Skinner, was nowhere to be found. Dani and JT had been working their asses off trying to figure out any other location Clay may be holding him in while other officers were keeping watch on his house. But no one has entered or exited the house the whole time that they were watching.

Gil did not know what to think. He did not want to think about Malcolm being dead. He also didn’t want to think about Malcolm being alone, somewhere no could find him. Honestly, he didn’t want to think at all. But when Dani burst into his office, JT trailing closely behind, he started thinking all sorts of things. His eyes looked to Dani expectantly as he got up from his chair.

“Sorry— “ Dani started, then stopped, and started again, “we’re not sure about this, but Skinner’s grandparents used to take him to a church which is apparently abandoned now so—“

“Then what are we waiting for?” Gil said, grabbing his coat, eager to get his hands on even the faintest of leads.

“Right,” JT said, Dani nodding along, as the trio stepped out of the office, Gil grabbing his phone hard as he called for backup and an ambulance, just in case.

“How far?” Gil asked as they stepped out of the precinct.

“Thirty minutes.” Dani answered. Gil sighed. It was thirty minutes too much.

He woke up about… he didn’t know how long ago. But it didn’t feel like he was awake. It felt like a nightmare. He was trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe. His head was pounding, something drilling into his skull with each wheezing breath he took. His chest was in a knot as he stared at the door, eyes bulging out, mouth dry and throat closing. There was someone on the other side of the door, whether it was Clay or someone else entirely, Malcolm didn’t know.

He didn’t dare move, knowing that whoever was outside the door was there to hurt him. Maybe if he stayed still, maybe they would go away.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” his father said. He has been there ever since Malcolm had woken up in the small room, and Malcolm could not ignore him any longer. If anything, his voice became more clear, more determined to taunt and scare. “I think it’s inevitable. I think they're going to hurt you, and I think there’s nothing you can do about it.”  
Malcolm shook his head. That can’t be true, it can’t. “But it is.”

The door opened.

“No, please,” he begged, and his father snickered. He started struggling again, desperate to get out, desperate to get to safety. “Please, please, _please_ , _please_ —“

“Bright!” He heard, but he didn’t, really. Not noticing that the voice was familiar, but noticing the firm grip on his shoulder. He tensed, struggling harder, begging harder.

“No!” He choked, falling to his side, getting away from the touch for a second only to be embraced by a stronger set of arms. And then he got it. He was going to die, and there really was nothing he could do about it. He shut his eyes tight, bracing himself, and in what he thought were his last breaths, he thought of his family.

The old church seemed empty when they approached, as all abandoned buildings seemed. Still, guns in their hands, they went in cautiously.

“NYPD! Clay Skinner, raise your hands and step out where we can see you!” JT looked to Gil when there was no response. Gil urged him to keep going forward to the left as he a Dani kept to the right, backup trailing behind.  
The church stretched out to what seemed like eternity. The cackling of broken glass beneath their feet was deafening in the silence, the dark mixing with spots of light abusing their eyes. JT called out again, “NYPD, step out with your arms raised!”  
Nothing but echo.

They kept going, reaching the back of the church and spreading out as the space got bigger. When Gil opened a door that lead to staircase leading down, his breathing quickened, calling for JT and Dani to follow suit as he descended down the stairway. When he emerged to a presumably empty room, he wanted to scream. Until he noticed the door on his far left. He itched closer, both of his detectives following closely. He opened the door.

“No, please,”

His soul left his body.

“Please, please, _please_ , _please_ —“ Malcolm struggled against what seemed like rope, begging, crying.

“Bright!” Gil ran to his side, gripping his shoulder. Malcolm choked out a cry and fell, probably hurting his head in the process. “JT hold him, Dani get a medic now!” JT nodded, going for a bear hug. Dani stared, breaths escaping her in a shallow, quick pattern. “Dani now!” Gil sounded more harsh than he intended, but that didn’t matter at the moment, and it worked, Dani started up the stairs.  
“Bright, Bright,” Gil said, but Malcolm didn’t seem to hear anything at all when his shoulders tensed, bracing himself for something that will never come. “Malcolm!”  
His eyes flew open, but Gil did not know if he could see him or not. His mouth twitched as his breath became more panicked.

“He’s— He’s going to kill me, Gil,” Malcolm said, eyes darting around the room. It made Gil very uneasy, but he had seen some of Malcolm’s panic attacks before, and he knew he just had to remind him that he was safe.

“Kid, I’m here now, you don’t have to worry, he’s not getting anywhere near you, okay?” But Malcolm kept looking around the room, unconvinced. JT looked at him with his brow furrowed, confused, but didn’t let go of him.  
“It just a panic attack,” Gil said, more to remind himself than to let JT know. “It’s fine.” He breathed, and JT nodded firmly. “Hey, kid, I’m going to cut off the rope, okay? I need you to stay still.”

“Gil, he’s here, he’s coming, he’s here,” Malcolm was shaking, hand trembling like never before.

“No one’s here, Malcolm, no—“ two paramedics burst in with Dani behind them.

“They got him boss, Skinner, he—"

“Woah!” JT startled, Malcolm basically going insane in his arms, trying to get away from his hold, which only managed to get JT to hold him tighter. He screamed.

“He’s here! Please Gil please!” This was nothing like any panic attack Gil had ever seen Malcolm go through. The medics rushed to get Gil away and sedate him, but Gil stopped them before they could.

“Can you give him something that won’t make him pass out?” He asked, trying to ignore Malcolm’s cries, heart pounding in his chest.

“We have diazepam in the ambulance, but we’ll have to get him there like this, then.” One of them, a short, blonde girl said. She seemed awfully calm and Gil guessed she was familiar with the situation. He nodded numbly, and looked over to where Malcolm wiggled like a worm trying to get out of the ground. He took his knife out of his pocket and went to cut the ropes around his legs.

“Maybe it’s best to keep him tied for now?” The girl medic suggested, and Gil hated the idea, as he was hurting himself by struggling, but thought she might be right. He put the knife back and nodded again, going to grab Malcolm from his side, signaling for JT to do the same. He did, and together they lifted Malcolm off the ground to a standing position, though his legs hovered in the air as he continued fighting to get away. They struggled up the flight of stairs, Malcolm’s screams dying in his throat as he got tired and turned into panicked heaving. While Malcolm started mumbling things that he didn’t understand, Gil focused all his thoughts to the fact that they now have him. Finally, after two long days, they got him, alive. And that is what mattered right now.

While on the way out of the church, Malcolm thought that he saw Clay Skinner, twice, and his struggling became more violent, kicking and jerking. JT breathed a swear as he managed to kick him in the knee. When they got to the ambulance, the second medic, a young, fit man, rushed to prepare the stretcher as the blonde girl got in to get a big syringe with what Gil guessed was diazepam.

“Hold his arm out, hold it steady.” The girl said, holding the syringe up.  
Gil took his knife out, and while JT held him, cut the ropes around his hands. He breathed in sharply as he saw bruises from the struggling around his wrists, red and purple and unforgiving. He held his hand out before Malcolm could try to get away.  
“Mr. Bright, my name is Diana. I’m going to give you something to calm you down now, okay?”  
Gil looked to Malcolm, but he didn’t seem to hear what Diana said, he was just breathing heavily, mumbling things that didn’t make sense, looking around with wide eyes. Gil held his arm steadily. She inserted the drug slowly.

Malcolm tensed, trying to get his arm out of Gil’s and JT’s hold, but they only held harder. “Put him on the stretcher,” Diana said. They did, and cut the ropes around his ankles. It took a few more minutes, but eventually Malcolm seemed to relax, his eyelids dropped and his breathing evened as the two medics put him in the ambulance. “We’re taking him to Bellevue Hospital.” Was the last thing Diana said before she closed both doors and the ambulance sped away.

“What was that?” Gil heard Dani say. Panic attack, he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Distantly, he knew his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. He knew JT and Dani were calling his name, but he couldn’t focus. His body shook weakly as adrenalin left his body. It wasn’t until JT grabbed him to stop him from falling over that he came to. He straightened up, realizing they had to get to the hospital and call Jessica.

“I’m fine," he said tightly, JT letting go of him hesitantly. “Lets go.” He headed for the car. He had to be fine, now was not the time to not be fine. As they got into the car, Gil pulled his phone out to call Jessica, the phone ringing as he pulled the car onto the road, not thinking twice about the fact that he’d have to deal with Skinner later.

Heaviness settled on him, and Malcolm felt that if he moved anything he might puke from the pressure in his head. Staying still, he let himself open his eyes for more than a blink. He swallowed, not knowing where he was or who the people beside him were, and why they were cutting open his shirt and poking at him, or what was that loud sound that had his ears ringing, or why— He shut his eyes tight as another wave of nausea startled him, making him wish they would stop moving for one second. He tried to reach out to god knows what, only to find his arm too heavy to corporate. The woman beside him noticed, though, and grabbed his hand. He didn’t know how to feel about the warm touch.

“I’m right here Mr. Bright,” she said, somewhat soothingly, "you’re going to be just fine.”  
He didn’t believe her. He knew Clay was out there, somewhere, possibly following them right now. Oh god, he was following them. Following him. He wanted to get up, to find a way out of there, wherever there was. He couldn’t master the strength. He was stuck.

“Need some help there, son?” His father said, and Malcolm groaned. He felt his hand being squeezed and questions of "what hurts” and “what’s wrong” drowning in his father's chuckles. He didn’t reply. He didn’t want to give in to his father. Didn’t want to make him real. Didn’t want to make anything real. If anything was even real.

He didn’t want anything to be real.


	2. Chapter 2

Jessica made it to the hospital before them.  
It didn’t make sense how she seemed to appear out of thin air every time something was wrong with Malcolm. Except there was nothing thin about the air in the hall of the hospital. It was thick with unspoken tension, full of worried glances towards the door.  
He wasn’t in surgery, Jessica rushed to tell Gil and the others as they entered the hall, they were just prepping him in a room. Private, of course.  
So they were outside, waiting.

And waiting.

Something didn’t feel right. Something in Gil’s gut told him he should be in there, holding onto Malcolm, not letting go. Never letting go.  
He was about to ask a nurse what was taking so long when Ainsley showed up.

“Mom,” she breathed, embracing Jessica. Jessica held on tightly as Gil looked away.

A doctor emerged from the room and stepped towards them in quiet, easy steps. Everyone tensed.

“First of,” the doctor, a kind looking man, not much older looking than Gil, started, “he’s alright. We bandaged his wrists and ankles. We suspect a concussion, but he's not very responsive right now. I’d rather he rest as much as possible, though, just in case.” He paused, looked down at his notes with a grim expression, and Gil felt a knot forming in his stomach. “That’s physically.” He finally said.

Jessica’s look sharpened, JT, Dani and Ainsley stood straighter. Gil thought back to the way Malcolm panicked and heaved. The way he talked, unintelligibly, messy.

“Mr. Bright kept insisting that Clay Skinner was following him. His speech was disorganized, he had a hard time communicating. I also think he’s hearing things. I’m not a psychiatrist, we’re gonna assign one for him to get a diagnosis, but, if I’m not wrong, Mr. Bright is going through a psychotic break.”

No one said anything, but Jessica seemed to withdraw in on herself, hugging her sides while Ainsley held onto her. Gil found his jaw too tight to make sound with.

It was Dani who asked what that meant.

“A psychotic break can have several symptoms, hallucinations and delusions are the well known ones. Paranoia is also one of the symptoms. It may be hard for one to know what is real from what is not. It seems to be this way for Mr. Bright right now. He is sedated now, so he’s calm. We will do more tests to make sure the symptoms are not symptoms of an underlying cause. Mrs. Whitly, if you would talk with me about his medical history,” he gestured towards Jessica.

“Can we see him?” Ainsley asked before Jessica had a chance to nod.

“Yes,” the doctor said, and his eyes softened, “but I should warn you, he might not be completely himself at the moment.”

There were people all around him. At least, Malcolm thought there were. He hasn’t opened his eyes in what felt like hours. He didn’t want to know what was beyond the comforting nothingness.  
There was pressure in his stomach, and even as he lay, he felt dizzy.  
Sunshine.  
He didn’t know what was really going on. All he knew was Clay Skinner was following him to wherever he was.  
He hasn’t eaten anything in forever, he shouldn’t be able to,  
He was going to kill him, he was sure.  
Throw up.  
There was a barrier between Malcolm’s mind and body.  
She was alone,  
Why was everything so  
For however long he was gone.  
Skinner. Going to kill him.  
Jumbled up?  
Murder him.  
Fear gripped Malcolms heart. He opened his eyes.  
Nobody was near him.  
Why was nobody  
“Oh Malcolm, sober up, will you?”  
Near him.  
He knew that voice.  
“You have work to do…”  
His father. His father wasn’t there. His father was locked up. He knew that.

Then why was he so afraid?

Ainsley was first to go in. Gil hesitated.  
He wanted to see Malcolm, so badly that it hurt. But, as much as he felt like it, he wasn’t family. Or, at least, as close as his real one. But when Ainsley opened the door again, looked at him with her big, scared eyes, he knew he couldn’t let her handle this alone. Gesturing for his team to follow, he went after Ainsley, Dani and JT sharing a weary look before doing the same.

It was cold inside. Light poured into the room from the window, it seemed to settle on Malcolm like a second blanket.  
He was awake, but it didn’t seem like he was. His eyes were open, tired and unfocused. His body was still, except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t look at them when they entered.  
Ainsley approached the bed slowly, taking Malcolm’s hand in hers. “Hey,” she said soothingly. Gil heart fluttered when he looked at her, lazily moving his eyes to him, Dani and JT. Then clenched when Malcolm turned away, looking straight at the wall.  
Ainsley looked at Gil, a frown on her face that managed to make her look scared and sad at the same time.

“He’s sedated,” Gil reassured, “It might be a while before he can talk.”  
Ainsley nodded, but didn’t seem to relax.  
When Jessica entered the room, it felt too personal for them to stay. As JT and Dani stepped out of the room, Gil hugged Jessica tightly, making sure to tell her to call if they needed anything, or if anything changed. Jessica said her thanks, and Gil left.

It was time to talk to Clay Skinner.

It was the next morning that Jessica called, voice full of terror, saying Malcolm was acting weird, paranoid. That he was scaring her. Gil had left his house ten minutes later and was now speeding through the highway, wishing he could get there faster, wishing he knew what to expect once he did get there.

Malcolm was out of his bed, pacing around the room. He was pulling at his hair and crying.

“What’s he doing out of bed?” Gil asked Jessica, who was huddled in the corner of the room, looking frighteningly relived to see him. She didn’t have a chance to answer as Malcolm grabbed Gil by the jacket, huge eyes, bright with tears, staring into his dark ones.

“Gil, they won’t let me go, Gil,” he said, voice wavering, unsteady. “He didn’t say anything. Didn’t say anything.”

“Kid, you need to go back to bed,” Gil spoke gently, though his heart beat like fire. Where were the nurses? The doctors?  
Placing his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders, he tried guiding him back to his bed, but Malcolm shook his head, fresh tears spilling out.

“You don’t understand, he’s out, I need to go, need to, no, not real.” The desperation in his voice made Gil’s heart ache. He didn’t show it.

“You’re safe here,” Jessica said, “Gil’s here, see?” She sounded hopeful, yet terrified, as if her words could hurt Malcolm somehow. But Malcolm shook his head again. Gil was starting to think none of this was getting into his head. Malcolm started pulling at his hair again.

“I’m confused,” he said, “I don’t understand, couldn’t be this, couldn’t be good.”

"Stop doing that,” Gil tried grabbing Malcolm's hands, stop him from pulling his hair out, but he flinched away. Gil put his hands up, “Kid, please, we’re not here to hurt you, we only want—“  
Someone came into the room. She didn’t seem like a doctor, with a yellow cardigan and floral shoes. Yet, as she laid her eyes on Malcolm, her face became determined. She closed the door.

“Hello, Mr. Bright.” she sounded cheerful despite the focus in her eyes. When Malcolm didn’t greet her back she turned to Gil and Jessica. “Hi,” she smiled, and Gil wondered how she was able to, when seeing a patient act like Malcolm did right now. “My name’s Ruby, I’m a psychiatrist. You are the parents?”

“I am.” Jessica didn’t return Ruby’s cool demeanor. “Can you give him something to calm him down?”

“Actually, I’m here to have a chat with Mr. Bright, if that’s okay with him.” She looked at Malcolm, who was looking out of the window, his hand trembling.

“He’s not really...” Gil paused, searching for words, “thinking right.” He settled.

“That’s okay,” Ruby smiled again, then went to stand by the chair near Malcolm’s bed. “Malcolm, would you come sit by me?” Malcolm turned to look at her. He stopped crying, but looked as if he saw a ghost. Big, pale eyes looked from Ruby to Gil to Jessica. Gil nodded slightly. Jessica looked afraid.

“Who are you?” Malcolm asked, hesitantly stepping away from the window.

“My name is Ruby, come sit so we can talk.” She gestured towards the bed.  
Shakily, Malcolm moved towards the bed. “That’s it,” Ruby encouraged, “See? It’s fine.”  
Malcolm was next to the bed now, but didn’t sit down.

“I’d like to stand.” Malcolm said, then looked over his shoulder at nothing.

“That’s okay,” Ruby reassured. “Mind if I sit?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, she sat down, fishing a notepad and a pen from her bag. She opened it and looked at Malcolm with kind, brown eyes.  
“Okay if I ask you some questions? We can talk alone, if you’d like.” Malcolm shook his head no.  
“Alright,” she was so calm, Gil had to wonder how experienced she was.  
“How are you feeling today, Malcolm?”

Malcolm didn’t answer at first. He looked as if he was going to cry again. Gil wanted to say something, anything, to get him to calm down, let him know he was fine. But words from the night before flashed in his mind.  
Psychotic break and paranoia is also one of the symptoms. He went home to look up what a psychotic break meant. He read articles, watched videos. He knew now, Malcolm might act out of character, might hear and see things others didn’t, might be paranoid, suspicious or depressed. There was so many options of what he might experience that it felt as if there wasn’t enough information in the world. He took a deep breath, just as Malcolm finally answered.

“Confused,” he said. Ruby wrote it down while nodding.

“What are you confused about?” She asked.

Malcolm looked over his shoulder again, towards the window. “Just,” he started, but paused.  
“I don’t know why,” he paused again.  
“I like to solve crimes.” He said finally.

“Is that what you do for a living?”

Malcolm nodded. He seemed distracted, as if he couldn’t keep track of his thoughts. Gil wondered what he meant by not knowing why he liked to solve crimes.  
before Ruby had a chance to finish writing, Malcolm started speaking again.

“And, I don’t understand. I think he knows where I am. No, he knows. I can’t keep doing this. These, These stupid games.”  
He rambled on, not really talking about anything specific, and it was hard to understand what he was saying at all sometimes. Then he stopped, seemingly curious with what Ruby was writing. And sat down on the bed, hand trembling as he pulled at his hair.

“You were saying someone knows where you are, do you think someone is following you?” Ruby asked, and Gil had a feeling he knew the answer.  
Malcolm nodded.

“Skinner. He’s coming here. He wants to kill me. I saw him.”

“Where did you see him? Here in the room?”

Malcolm shook his head and pointed at the window. He jumped suddenly, as if something startled him, making Jessica gasp.

“Okay,” Ruby was still writing, “Malcolm, do you hear things, such as voices or noises, that you think others can’t hear?”

Malcolm didn’t answer. He looked fearfully at the wall behind Gil and Jessica. Despite knowing there was nothing there, Gil turned around to look, Jessica doing the same. There was nothing but white wall.

“What are you experiencing right now?” Ruby asked, leaning forward in her chair, brows creased with concern.

Malcolm looked to the window, then stood up and started pacing again.

“My father,” his voice shook, and Gil looked to Jessica just in time to see her eyes soften. “I can hear him,” Malcolm pointed to his temple with a trembling hand, closing his eyes. “But I know, I know he’s locked up.” He breathed deep,

“That must be very confusing.” Ruby stated softly. She stopped writing and looked at Malcolm as he stopped pacing, looking at her with wide, wild eyes.

“Yes,” he said, then stepped closer to her, as if realizing something. “You know. You understand. Why, why do I hear him? Why do I see him? He doesn’t even know where I am, he doesn’t.”

Gil suddenly realized Martin really didn’t know Malcolm has been found. He knew he was missing, because Gil had gone to see him to ask questions following his disappearance. But he never returned after they had found Malcolm. Not that he really had the time.

Ruby smiled gently. “I have just a few more questions, if that’s okay.”

As if she didn’t just avoid his question, Malcolm calmly sat down on the bed again. His eyes were half lidded and unfocused, and Gil thought about how exhausted he must be.

“Do you feel like you have any special powers? maybe you have a special mission?” Ruby was ready to write down when Malcolm didn’t answer. His eyes closed. He opened them lazily when Gil’s phone buzzed from inside his pocket. He fished it out, saw it was Dani calling, excused himself and stepped out of the room.

“Boss?” Dani’s voice was something to ground himself to. Gil didn’t even notice how on edge he was. “Is everything okay?”  
Gil looked at the hour quickly, realizing he was supposed to be at the precinct about half an hour ago.

“Yes, I was visiting Malcolm,” Dani’s breath hitched slightly, “I’ll be there soon.”

“How is he?” Dani asked just as both Jessica and Ruby stepped out of Malcolm’s room.

“I’ll talk to you at the precinct, I have to go.” He hung up. Feeling guilty, he faced Ruby and Jessica. Eyes narrowed at the fact that they left Malcolm alone.

Jessica picked up on it. “He’s in bed,” she said, raising her hand to to rub her forehead. As beautiful as she was, Jessica seemed tense, tired and like she could really use a drink right about now. Gil ignored the pull he felt at his heart. He turned to Ruby. “So? Is it a...?” He didn’t manage to finish the sentence. Something about saying it out loud made it seem so real.

“Psychosis,” Ruby said, “Seems like it.” Gil felt his shoulders haunch over. Defeated. “Psychosis can happen when something as stressful as being kidnapped happens, the fortunate thing is that when the cause is stress, is that it is most likely a one time thing.” Gil’s head snapped up at that.

“It’s not permanent?” He asked, looking to Jessica. She seemed as alert as he was.

“No. Even if it was, psychosis comes in episodes, so he wouldn’t be acting like this all the time. What I think, is that it is something called Brief Psychotic Disorder, which means that it most likely is going to be over in one month or less. Likely to never happen again.”

Gil breathed. That was good. That was excellent news. Malcolm would recover from this. He would recover, and then it’ll never happen again. Most likely. He felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed.  
“So what now?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter is going to have mentions of self harm. Read with caution please! Also I hope you like it! ;P

Back at the precinct, Gil explained what Ruby had said earlier. He had left after they talked about treatment, not checking on Malcolm, fearing his heart won’t let him go to work if he did.

“They’re going to check him into a psychiatric hospital?” Dani’s voice echoed off the walls of Gil’s office, something lay under the shock in her voice. Something that smelled awfully of fear.

“Man, he’s gonna hate that.” JT murmured, giving Dani a wide eyed look. 

“He’s not really in the state of mind to hate anything.” Gil sighed. He thought back to the way Malcolm pulled at his hair, the uncertainty in his voice as he spoke. He really wished they didn’t have to put him in a place he wouldn’t be able to get out of, he knew that would frighten him, but Ruby had said it was best for his own safety. When Jessica argued, she simply explained that Malcolm felt that he was being followed, that he was in danger. Those feelings tend to get a person up and running. And nobody wanted him running around in a psychotic episode. So the best choice was to admit him into a hospital that could keep an eye on him. For everyone’s sake. 

Gil sighed again. “He won’t be back for at least a month, but he will be safe, and that’s what matters right now.” 

Both JT and Dani nodded in agreement, though looking weary still. Gil couldn’t blame them. It wouldn’t be the same without Malcolm’s profiles, his stupid jokes and the never ending chit chat. He wanted nothing more then to have him by his side. But he wouldn’t — couldn't — risk his kid’s life for that.

“Can we visit him?” Dani asked, biting her lower lip, already preparing herself for a negative answer. 

“Yes,” Gil said, “though I’m not sure you want to. He’s not very,” Gil swallowed, “himself.” 

They nodded. And though Gil could see JT wasn’t sure he wanted to visit either, Dani seemed determined. He let her. He couldn’t stop her. After all, nothing would have stopped him from visiting, either.

* * *

The next day Gil assured her and JT that he was checked into the psychiatric hospital sometime last night. Dani wanted to visit him, but decided to put it off for at least another day. She didn’t want to impose. And, if she was being honest with herself, she was also afraid. Afraid of seeing the usually cheerful, easy going profiler in shambles, a hole so deep even he couldn’t get out of it. She remembered the way he acted when they found him. Out of his mind, barely realizing they were there. She wondered if it was worse than that now, or maybe better. She let herself drown into work.

When she asked JT if he wanted to join her to go visit Malcolm the following day, he hesitated for a few moments, but nodded eventually. Even JT couldn’t deny that Bright was one of their own now, and he worked just as hard as Dani and Gil to find him. Even if he didn’t want to show it, he cared. So at the end of the work day, when the sun began to set, they both popped into Gil’s office, letting him know they were going. Asking if he wanted to come, too. He shook his head, letting them know he would come by later. 

So they went. It was quiet on the way there, the air empty of the usual banter that accompanied car rides. 

It was clear that JT was still tense about visiting, even after he decided to go. Dani could feel the doubt coming in a radiating energy from his set-back shoulders, his blank face. Doubt that he was ready for this.

They had to leave their guns behind when they entered the building. No, it didn’t matter that they were cops. There were suicidal patients in the hospital, and they couldn’t risk anybody getting their hands on a firearm. 

Jessica and Ainsley were leaving when they arrived to the lobby of the ward Malcolm was in. It was a large area, full of round tables and chairs, surrounded by doors which, Dani guessed, lead to the patients’ rooms. They exchanged a few words, Jessica explaining that they were going to grab a few things from Malcolm’s apartment, as well as better food. They didn’t want Malcolm eating the “trash” that they served here, as Jessica put it. Then they were on their way to find Malcolm.

It didn’t take long to spot him. He was sitting at a table at the far corner of the room, alone. He was wearing a patterned shirt that was too big for his skinnier frame and faded pants. He wasn’t eating, like some of the other patients were. It was pretty early for dinner, Dani found herself thinking as they went over to the table. Malcolm didn’t notice them, staring at his hands on the table.

Dani cleared her throat, but he didn’t look up. she sat down across from him, JT doing the same. “Bright,” she said, and Malcolm’s head snapped up.

His eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting to see his teammates here.

“Dani, JT,” he said. 

“Hey, man,” JT greeted. ”How are you doing?” 

Malcolm’s look of surprise turned into a pleading one. “You’ve got to get me out of here,” he said, and Dani started shaking her head. For a moment, she relaxed. This was normal. This was definitely something Bright would say. He would beg for them to get him out, and then, because he _can_ _not_ catch a break, he would ask if there was a case to work on. 

Except he didn’t.

“I know,” he swallowed, his hand started trembling, and Dani couldn’t help but stare. “I know you think I’m safe here, but I’m not, okay?” His voice wavered. “You have to get me out of here, Skinner, he knows I’m here.”

“We got Skinner, man, he’s in jail.” JT said. Looking at him with sympathy, but determination, too.

“No, I saw him, he’s followed me here,”

_That’s impossible_ , Dani wanted to say, but stopped herself. She read somewhere online that when someone was experiencing psychosis, they couldn’t snap out of it, no matter what people said. If anything, disagreeing with someone’s reality would only make things worse. 

“I know you’re scared, Malcolm, but you have to stay for now, okay? We won’t let anything happen to you. We _won’t_.” She stressed when it seemed like Malcolm wasn’t focusing on what she was saying.

He looked like he zoned out completely, though, and Dani and JT shared a look. 

“The girl in the box,” he finally said, “she was there all along, and I tried to kill him. He said, he said we were the same. But we aren’t, we aren’t.” He was looking at one of the patients with shining eyes, Dani realized as she followed his gaze. The patient was a skinny girl, with dark hair and her back to them. wearing the same thing Malcolm was. Most of the patients were. She noticed pink, horizontal lines covered the inside of her arm. _Scars_. She wondered if that’s what Malcolm noticed, if that drew his attention as it did hers. she looked back at Malcolm just in time for him to keep rambling.

“I think,” he whispered, “time has no meaning here, that I’m back where it all started. Dad was arrested, but they didn’t find her.” Tears threatened to fall down his eyes as Dani heard him choke on his words, and she wanted to hug him. She wanted to hold him like a child, rock with him and hum in his ear. She didn’t know if it was the psychosis that made him seem so vulnerable, so scared, or if it was his own trauma coming to haunt him, as it never stopped doing, it seemed.

“Meds, ladies and gentlemen! Come get them before they get cold!” An older looking man in nurse scrubs chuckled, standing behind a cart with drawers built in to it. He started handing out pills as a small crowd of patients gathered around him. Dani looked to JT, who looked so uncomfortable he might break inside, then to Malcolm, who hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t you going to go get your meds?” Dani asked, to which Malcolm shook his head. Tears were racing to his chin as he looked away from the cart’s direction. 

“Malcolm! Let’s go!” The nurse said, waving him over. Malcolm still didn’t move.

“Come on, Bright— Malcolm, I’ll come with you.” Dani said, gentle as she can. Malcolm shook his head again. 

“They make me drowsy,” he said, and locked his eyes with hers. They seemed foggy, not clear all the way through, not vibrating with the usual electricity she came to associate with the profiler.

“Malcolm, you need your meds, they’ll help clear your mind.”

“Malcolm, don’t make me come over there,” the nurse called with humor lacing his voice.

Malcolm hesitated. 

“Come on,” Dani urged, “I’ll come.” She laid out her hand across the table. Malcolm’s trembling one took it. 

They made their way to the nurse, leaving JT to sit in awkwardness. The nurse seemed genuinely pleased to see Malcolm. “Hi there,” he greeted them kindly, reaching into a drawer. “who’s your friend, Malcolm?” 

Malcolm’s hand shook slightly as he reached to take the little cup with pills in it that the nurse gave him. He looked at them hesitantly. Dani gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and Malcolm swallowed the pills quickly, as if not to give himself time to regret it. The nurse filled the little cup with water and Malcolm drank. 

“There you go, all good?” The nurse asked. Malcolm nodded slightly. Tossing the cup into the trash can near by. 

They went to go back to the table when the girl with dark hair Malcolm was staring at earlier got in their way. “You’re the new guy,” she said to Malcolm, more of a statement than a question. “Do you want to come sit with my friends and I?”

Malcolm looked at Dani hesitantly, and she smiled at his big eyes. “It’s okay, JT and I should get going anyway.” Malcolm’s shoulders fell, disappointed. Dani quickly squeezed his hand. “We’ll be back soon, if not tomorrow. Don’t worry.” 

Malcolm nodded, “Be careful,” he whispered, “I wish I could be out of here so I could protect you from Skinner, but just get out of his way until I can get out of here, okay?” 

Dani was taken aback by his words. He was stuck in a hospital, fearing for his life from someone who was already arrested, lived in a completely different reality than everyone else did. Yet he still wanted to protect her, was still concerned. Classic Bright. The one who needed to be worried about is the one worrying.

Dani shook out of her thoughts as Malcolm’s big blue eyes stared into hers. “I will,” she said, shutting down the _it’s safe out there, Skinner is locked up_ That rattled in her mind. Malcolm nodded. Than, slowly, took his hand away from hers. His hand didn’t tremble. He walked with the dark haired girl towards a table with two other patients sitting by it, the girl talking eagerly to Malcolm. 

Dani watched them go, thinking about the fact that Malcolm could have been very lonely in here. But maybe in a place of hurt and helplessness, one didn’t judge the other, one was simply there.

Dani felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see JT, looking at her with tight lips. “Let’s go,” she said, sparing one more glance at Malcolm, now seated with the others. 

She felt a heavy breath leave her lungs as they stepped out of the ward, and JT looked her way. “You good?” He asked. 

“Fine,” she replied, but JT knew she wasn’t. Knew because he wasn’t fine either. Knew because how could she be? She’s been acting strong for Bright, while he sat and stared. He didn’t know what to do for Bright, didn’t know how to be strong for him. But he sure as hell wasn’t gonna sit by and watch Dani fall apart, too. 

“Me neither,” he said, and hugged her to his side as they walked, “me neither.”

* * *

“Rumor says you were kidnapped,” Malcolm’s head snapped to the person to his left, Ken. He was a big man, with wide shoulders, and even as he sat he towered over Malcolm’s smaller frame. 

“What?” 

How did they know? Suddenly suspicious, Malcolm began to rise out of his chair. All kinds of thoughts ran through his mind. _Were they with Clay? How did they manage to get in here?_ They broke and shattered, leaving him confused, until a hand grabbed at his arm. He looked down to find deep blue eyes staring at him, saying something he couldn’t make out. It was Abigail, the girl that asked Malcolm to come sit with her and the others. 

“It was on the news,” her words came into focus, sounding breathy, as if she was concerned. “We saw your picture. I didn’t recognize you at first until Hannah mentioned it, when your cop friends were over.” She gestured to Hannah, who sat quietly in front of Malcolm, almost looking ashamed. She was a blonde women, looking to be in her 60’s, not that Malcolm could focus on that, as he tried to calm his breathing he didn’t realize was coming in sharp bursts. The hold on his arm grew tighter, grounding him. He sat back down shakily. 

“My picture was on the news?” He asked, his eyes were closed, but Abigail had released her hold on him as he sat back down.

“Yeah,” she said. Tension hung in the air around them, as if there was more to say, but before Malcolm could ask, Ken spoke up, 

“What was it like?” 

“Ken!” He heard Abigail’s shock, but it was distant somehow, far away. Memories flooded him all at once. Clay Skinner Starving him. Shouts behind the walls of the room he was in as the door opened and slammed shut over and over again. Burning sensations ran through his arms and legs as he felt rope scratching against him. His father’s voice, taunting.

Malcolm went rigid.

He stood up so fast the chair behind him went scattering across the room, eyes searching the surroundings for a way out of there. Before he finds the exit door, his eyes land on a familiar figure, hovering in the shadows. 

He’s here.

Malcolm bolts. He runs to the exit door and tries to push it open. It won’t budge. Distantly he remembers that they have to buzz you in and out, that the door won’t open on it’s own, but all he can do is focus on trying to break the door down. The huge, metallic, secure door. He leans back, banging his shoulder against it. It doesn’t rattle.

He’s aware of shouts around him when he goes for another shove. But hands grab him, trying to pull him away, and he’s sure. He’s so sure that he’s never going to see the light of day again. His heart beats faster than lightning in his chest as he fights to get free of their grip. He gets one arm free and throws his elbow back. It’s met with a crunch and a yell, and his left side is freed from the hands. He spins to the left, freeing himself from the grips on his right, and distances himself and the three nurses that tried to grab him, one clutching a bleeding nose. 

Malcolm lifts his hands up and curls them into fists. He’s positive now that they’re all working for Skinner, which makes his heart grow with fear and despair. He won’t let them get him. 

“Now that’s my boy,” he’s father is there suddenly, behind the nurses, smiling the wide smile of his. Malcolm is startled for just a moment. A second, really. But that’s all it takes. Two nurses grab him again, this time from the front and from both sides so he won’t be able to get away. There are more shouts. They fill his ears and blood, leaving him cold and terrified. But Malcolm doesn’t need his hands. He lifts his leg and aims for the back of the knee of the nurse to his right. Grunting, the nurse falls on one knee, but doesn’t let go of Malcolm's arm. If anything, he only holds on tighter. Malcolm tries to shake him off, but is startled by the sight of a syringe going near his arm. He looks up, tensing all over, and sees a female nurse holding the syringe to the crook of his arm. She injects it before he has time to react. 

The nurses are now dragging him, throwing him in a room that has soft mattresses for walls, and shut the door. 

The click of the lock is deafening. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, mentions of self harm, nothing too bad tho.

As soon as he gets a call from Ruby’s office number, Gil's heart plummets down to his socks. He picks up immediately.

“Is he okay?” 

“Yes, but,” is all he needs to hear to be on his feet and out of the precinct, which he had stayed at long after everyone else had left. _Fight, broke a nose_ , and _sedated_ are snippets that he catches onto while running to his car.

“Hello? Sir?” Ruby’s voice comes back to life after a long pause. 

“I’m on my way.” Gil hung up.

* * *

The first thing Malcolm notices when his screams die down and he stops banging on the door, is that he is not alone. 

When he turns around, Clay Skinner is behind him. 

Malcolm sags against the door. He can’t really focus on Skinner as his vision blurs, and his mind fills with fog. Suddenly he’s on the floor — or mattress — and Skinner is looming over him, but his eyes fall shut and his shaking subsides and he’s so, _so_ tired that he thinks he’s just going to take a nap right there and then. He lets out a breath as a wave of calm engulfs him, drowning his panicked thoughts and racing heart. Maybe he was going to die. Maybe Skinner was going to go after his family, too. But Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to care enough to even open his eyes. Maybe he just accepted his fate. He accepted that there was nothing he could do, that his fight was over and his time has come. 

It’s not until the door opens that Malcolm realizes that Skinner is gone. He’s in the air then, floating, unaware of hands touching him, aware of his mother's voice as she argues with a couple of nurses, but not really comprehending it. Then he's in a bed, and he can’t move his hands, but he doesn’t mind. He really just wants all of this to be over now. So he exhales against the pillow, and tries to fall asleep. Even if it’s the last time he’s going to do so. 

* * *

“Are these necessary?” Gil indicates the restraints around Malcolm’s wrists. Visiting hours ended, and it was pretty quiet in the ward, only a few patients out of their room.

“Sir, _he_ _broke a nose._ ” 

Gil startled. He remembered Ruby saying something about that, but it seems so far away, like a dream. Gil then remembers the kid was actually a former FBI agent, that he was able to hold his own, something that was easy enough to forget when Malcolm actually got into so much trouble. Gil sighed, moving to Malcolm’s side, hand hovering above his red, swollen one. He hears Jessica talk in hushed tones with Ruby, the psychiatrist. Gil shut them out, and focused on his kid, hand coming to brush his hair back, only to draw back when Malcolm’s eyes opened. He looked haunted. Eyes sunken, the pale blue suddenly seemed grey. His mouth opened, it was dry and almost cracked and no voice came out.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Gil cooed, brushing his hair. Malcolm went to move his hands, suddenly aware he was trapped by restraints. Panic settled in the kid’s eyes, and Gil remembered. Feeling guilty for not insisting earlier, he straightened up, 

“Can we get these off?” He asked, more harshly than he intended, startling Jessica. 

“ _Sir_ , he—“ the nurse in the room spoke again, but Gil cut him off. 

“He was _kidnapped_ , you can’t _trap_ him.” Gil didn’t mean to raise his voice, but emotions were a funny thing, and right now, he had a storm of them inside of him. He looked to Ruby, who nodded at the nurse. The nurse moved to release the restraints. 

“Mom,” Malcolm croaked, as the restraints were taken off, and Jessica ran to his side, placing a hand on his cheek. 

Gil went to fill a glass with water. 

“I’m here, dear, what is it?” 

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Jessica leans backwards, taken aback. “Of course,” she says, quickly regaining her posture. “Of course I am.”

“Ainsley?” Malcolm asked as Gil came with the glass of water. 

“She’s fine. Here,” Jessica takes the glass and helps Malcolm drink slowly. 

Gil knows that Malcolm’s calm demeanor is the result of the sedatives, but he couldn’t help but relax his shoulders a bit. 

Malcolm seemed haunted, vulnerable, and exhausted, but he was calm. Not talking about Skinner, or his father, or the girl in the box or whatever had had his mind in shambles right now. 

“When can I go home?” 

Gil’s heart shattered. He came closer and placed his hand on Jessica’s shoulder when she didn’t answer. “Once you feel better,” he said, voice gentle. “We’ll take you home. But for now, focus on resting, okay?"

Malcolm nodded, closing his eyes.

Gil and Jessica stayed until the staff practically kicked them out. Gil held onto Jessica as she sobbed. “Let me take you home.” He said, and Jessica rubbed at her eyes as she nodded. They went, comfortingly quiet in the car ride. Jessica refuses Gil’s offer to come in with her. She tells him to go home, that he deserves rest, too. But Gil isn’t sure he’s going to get it one way or another. He doesn’t push it though, and lets her go. He sits in his car for sometime. He thinks about everything and nothing at all. He’s feeling hurt, but at the same time he doesn’t feel at all. He drives home with one conclusion in mind; Malcolm Bright just might be the death of him.

* * *

The next time Dani went to visit Malcolm, it was alone. JT decided to stay back this time. 

Hearing about Malcolm’s accident left Dani feeling sick and guilty. If she hadn’t left him when she did, the whole thing could have been avoided. 

She enters the ward and looks for Malcolm. Spotting him to her left, sitting by a table with the chatty dark haired girl. He notices her approaching, stopping mid sentence, his face breaking into a brilliant smile. “Dani!” He says it with such excitement, Dani can’t help but get excited herself. He seemed... fine. Himself, somehow. She didn’t expect it, but she was glad he looked better.

“Hey Bright,” she returns his smile with a smaller one, yet not less genuine. 

“Come sit,” he drags a chair from under the table, and she goes to sit down next to him, across from the girl. 

“Abi was just asking me questions about police work.” Malcolm raised his chin, as if proud. “I was getting to the point of getting fired from the FBI.” Dani raised her eyebrows, looking from Malcolm to Abi. 

“I never heard the story, my self.” She said, trying to keep the curiosity out of her voice. 

“He punched a sheriff!” Abi said before Malcolm could reply, eyes shining. Dani narrowed her eyes at Malcolm, who smiled sheepishly. 

“In my defense, he shot our killer, who was backing down. Called himself a hero, too.” Malcolm shook his head at the memory. 

“Doesn’t matter, I work with you guys now, so it’s fine.” Dani smiled. She could tell he was sincere. And she knew he liked his job more than anything else. “Speaking of,” he said, “anything new?”

Dani shook her head. “It’s been quiet. The world’s waiting for you.” Malcolm smiled at that. 

“So, what do you do here for fun?” Dani asked, looking at Abi. Her eyes flickered down to the girl‘s scars, then back up just as quickly. If Abi noticed, she ignored it.

“Not much,” Abi spoke casually, “talk, mostly. There are books but they’re not very interesting.” Malcolm lit up at that.

“I should ask mother to bring me some books.” He said. Abi returned his excited energy. 

“What kind of books do you like?” She asked.

“Murder mysteries,” Malcolm said, a smile plastered on his face. _Of_ _course_ , Dani chuckled, _what_ _else_? 

The entry door buzzed open and a short, dark haired woman walked in. Gil was behind her. He noticed them and smiled warmly. Malcolm and Abi were still talking about books when both the woman and Gil stopped at their table. Gil put his hand on the back of Malcolm’s neck as the woman spoke, 

“Abigail,” she said, coldly, then looked to Malcolm, who was smiling up at Gil now. 

Gil looked surprised to see Malcolm smiling, but pleased. “How are you feeling, kid?” 

Malcolm opened his mouth to answer, then closed it as the woman next to Gil, Abi’s mother, Dani assumed, spoke again,

“Aren’t you the new one? The one who attacked the nurses?” Both Dani and Malcolm turned to look at her in shock. Gil’s face went blank. She continued cooly, “Abigail, you know how I don’t like you talking to other patients here, especially the violent ones. It can get you depressed again, do you _not_ want to get out of here?” Malcolm stammered, he looked to Gil, whose face was still blank. Abigail was stunned into silence. Dani took it as a chance to speak.

“You know,” she worked her jaw, “you shouldn’t talk to a police worker like that, especially when his friends are around.” Gil looked at her, a question in his eyes. Abi’s mother gaped at her. 

“Is that a threat?” She asked, and Dani fought the urge to curl in on herself under both hers and Gil’s gaze. 

“It’s advice,” Dani said, head tilting up to look at her with more confidence, “from a police worker.” She smiled tightly. 

Abi’s mother grabbed her hand to drag her away angrily. Abigail went away with a final look of guilt in Malcolm’s direction.

Gil huffed, his hold on Malcolm’s neck softening. Malcolm looked lost. Dani worried he’ll go back to his previous state of mind, less clear, more panicked. “I attacked the nurses?” He asked quietly, Dani almost didn’t catch it. Gil sat down on the chair previously occupied by Abigail. He looked back to where Abigail and her mother were standing, arguing, then back to Malcolm. 

“Kid, you were scared, you wanted an out. Nobody blames you.” Gil’s gentle voice managed to calm Dani's tense shoulders, but Malcolm looked unconvinced. 

“Did I hurt someone?” He asked, looking at his hands as if there was blood on them. Gil and Dani shared a glance of hesitation. Malcolm’s right hand began to tremble. “ _Gil_ ,” he urged. Gil shook his head, swallowing thickly. 

“Kid, listen,” he started, but Malcolm staggered to his feet. 

“I need a minute,” he said before turning and walking to one of the rooms, closing the door. 

Gil put his head in his hands, defeated. Dani sighed, she couldn’t help but feel guilty again, for what happened. She went as far back as to when he went missing. She should have connected the dots, should have found Malcolm sooner. But she didn’t, and now here they were. And even though Malcolm seemed better today, it felt as if the road to recovery was stretched to infinity. Dani sighed, at least she knew she was going to be there for every step of the way.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next few days, Malcolm seemed like someone sucked all of the life from him. He was depressed, tired, and confused for more than half the time he was awake. He was never seemed excited to see Dani, JT, or Gil when they visited. He spent most of his time in his room, ignoring the pile of books their mother brought for him, staring at nothing. Needless to say, Ainsley wasn’t sure what to do about it. She heard their mom talk to his psychiatrist about medication, but she didn’t know the specifics. 

Whenever she could, she sat with him in his room, or in the lobby of the ward or the garden outside of it. She would talk, about anything and everything, the reports on her job, the latest drama between her and her friends, how his stupid bird missed him. Most of the time he didn’t seem to even hear her. Yet she kept talking, not willing to give up.

Sometimes he would talk back, but not about whatever Ainsley had just said. He would talk about something else entirely, most of the time his words didn’t make sense. She listened nonetheless, even when he talked about being followed, when he talked about how everyone in the ward was out to get him. Then she held his trembling hand in hers as he would fall back into silence. 

When visiting hours ended, she headed back home with their mom. She urged her to go to bed, but knew that when she left, her mom drank away into the morning. 

At work, she focused all of her efforts to doing the best job she could. But with everyday passing, her energy would slow. It would take more effort to concentrate, more time to talk, harder to listen. 

Eating and showering had become a chore. She hated dreaming because she dreamt about Malcolm. She hated waking up because her first thoughts were of him. Her heart shattered to a million pieces every time she saw him staring into nothing, eyes blank. And she gathered them every time she left the ward. 

He had told her once, when she asked how he was feeling, that he didn’t feel anything at all. 

she didn’t know if she longed for that, for a feeling of nothingness. It seemed to suck his soul out of his body. But so were her feelings of exhaustion, and sadness and anger. 

On the first week’s mark of Malcolm being in the hospital, Ainsley went to visit Dr. Martin Whitly. No one had gone to talk to him about Malcolm. She assumed he saw that he had been found on the news. But he didn’t know how he was, and for some reason, she felt obligated to catch him up to speed. Or maybe it was that she felt hopeless, and a part of her soul, deep down, believed that her father would be able to help. 

The guard opened the door, and Ainsley stepped in. In front of her Martin was on his bed, seemingly deep in thought. He looked up at her. A smile spread on his face.

“I thought you might be Malcolm, but I must say, I’m not disappointed.” Ainsley rolled her eyes and cut to the chase.

“He’s in the hospital.” She said, and suddenly her throat ached, and her eyes burned. Martin’s smile disappeared, replaced by a deep frown. 

“It’s been a week, is it that bad?” Ainsley shook her head, tears began to fall down her cheeks as she tightened her jaw.

“He’s in Manhattan Psychiatric.” Her voice shook, she swallowed. “Been there almost the whole time.”

Martin took a step backwards. He’s eyes seemed to shake, somehow. He huffed a forced laugh. “What’s he got to do there?”

Ainsley put her arms around herself, as if she could stop her own trembling. “Brief Psychotic Disorder. That’s what they think it is. They can’t know without waiting for a while.” 

“ _Psychosis_?” Martin echoed. He paused. “That’s... that’s not...” 

“Right? Possible? Good?” Ainsley tilted her head as if confused. “His mental health is so broken, so shattered, all it took was _one more_ traumatic event in his life _full_ of trauma to get him to snap. And like it or not, you’re part of that.” Martin’s head twitched. He looked hurt, but Ainsley couldn’t bring herself to care. She bit her lip in anger, then exhaled through her nose to calm down. 

“How is he doing in there?” Martin asked once she had time to clear her mind of rage and sorrow. 

“I don’t even know,” Ainsley threw her arms in the air. “It’s like he’s barely even there. Barely talks, barely eats, I don’t even know if he sleeps at night. It doesn’t look like it.” 

“Hallucinations? Delusions?” Ainsley nods. Martin sat down on the bed. 

“And you?” He asks after a pause. 

“Me?” Ainsley looks at him, brows furrowed.

“This can’t be easy on you, or your mom. Are you taking care of yourselves?” 

Before she can help it, Ainsley sobs. Breath forcefully leaving her lungs as if someone pushed on them. Martin got off the bed. 

“My girl...” He whispered, and Ainsley couldn’t take it. She banged her hand on the door until it opened and she stormed out. She sobbed on her way to the hospital. She didn’t try to stop, she knew she needed this. So she let go, let her feelings bleed out of her before they could close around her throat. 

And when she couldn’t bleed anymore, she collected herself, plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and went inside.

* * *

Gil never thought this would be easy, but he never expected this.

These long talks with Malcolm’s psychiatrist, talking about progress and medication and diagnosis. The awkward silences between him and Jessica as they each tried to get the other to take better care of themselves. The few depression days Malcolm went through. The kid wasn’t eating, and gotten skinnier, even though that seemed impossible. The staff threatened to hook him up to a feeding tube, but Malcolm didn’t really comprehend that, so eventually they did. They inserted a G-Tube through his nose. The sight wasn’t pretty, and Dani almost had a heart attack when she saw it for the first time, but it kept him alive. 

He was still confused and delusional, but he didn’t seem as panicked as before. Didn’t claim to see things that weren’t there. Ruby said that was good, that he was coming out of the episode, slowly but surely. At two weeks of him being there, Malcolm had a couple of good days. He had began eating again, small portions once every few hours, and the staff removed the tube. He was relieved. And smiled when Dani showed up. Talking to her about the book he finally started reading. He even started talking to Abigail again, when her mother wasn’t around. Gil and Jessica had shared small smiles of big achievements and Gil thought that maybe the rough times really were temporary. 

But then Malcolm had a bad day. He was suspicious of everyone, talked to himself most of the day and practically had an anxiety attack over the voices that he heard. That was all before Gil, Jessica and Ainsley showed up. One of the nurses caught them up to speed on his behavior that day, when he threw a book over at a wall. Everyone around tensed, patients, visitors, nurses. Apparently no one forgot about the eventful day. But instead of lashing out, Malcolm crumpled to the floor, knees drawn up to his chest with his head between his hands, as if blocking out a loud noise. The three rushed to his side, Jessica had her hands on his cheeks in seconds. Malcolm looked up at her, but their eyes didn’t lock, his eyes were too unfocused, too far away. He whispered something under his breath, something that Gil didn’t hear, but made Jessica let go of his face. He whispered again, louder, 

“Leave me alone, _please_ ,” 

Gil hesitated. He hated seeing Malcolm beg like that, but he wasn’t just going to up and leave. It took him another second to realize Malcolm might not have been talking to them. 

“Who do you want to leave you alone?” He asked, searching his kid’s face for a clue that he was right. 

He got an answer when Malcolm’s eyes focused on thin air. 

“Dad.” He said. Jessica took a shuddering breath. Ainsley leaned back on her heels, looking disturbed. 

Gil looked behind his shoulder to where Malcolm had his eyes locked. He wanted to go over there and punch the air. He doubted that would help, though, so resigned to taking Malcolm’s shaking hand away from his ear, then gave him a squeeze. He learned long ago that he can’t help Malcolm with the hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia. 

But he was damned if he wasn’t going to try.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Mentions of self harm and suicide.

On his third week and two days mark, Malcolm had been a lot more clear headed. He found that his thoughts didn’t break and danced around as much anymore. He could concentrate a lot better, and his mood had raised so high he was afraid to fall sometimes. Of course, that when clarity came, so did the heaviness of his situation. He’s been stuck in a mental hospital for more than three weeks, and though he only remembered bits and pieces, he knew it wasn’t a good time. For anyone.

Ever since he started talking to his assigned psychiatrist, Ruby, without being distracted or confused every other second, and they determined that he wasn’t a threat to himself, or anyone else for that matter, they let him wear his own clothes, which his mom brought with excitement brightening her eyes. It also meant that he moved to a further away room. He had JT help him get his things out of his current one; his books, his toothbrush, which, he realized with disgust, he didn’t use in almost all of his time here, as well as underwear and socks. 

Dani, JT and Ainsley sat with him when he was bored out of his mind, talking to him, listening to him. And before they could show up, he talked to other patients, mostly Abigail, as, he learned quickly, most of the other patients were weary of him. He had talked about it with Abi, Ken and Hannah, once they agreed to sit with him. 

“It was pretty badass, I’m not gonna lie.” Ken had said, his deep voice empty of apology. Hannah nodded slightly. 

“Guys!” Abigail shook her head, “So tactless.”

“It’s okay,” Malcolm reassured her with a smile. He didn’t really remembered the fight, but he doubted it was badass. He knew he broke a nose to a particularly nice nurse, and he didn’t want to think about how he did it without really being aware of what he was doing.

Mother and Gil had accompanied him to the tedious check ups with Ruby. 

He remembered the first day he came out of the fogginess that surrounded his mind. It was like breaking out into air after drowning for longer than he could remember. He was cold and clammy and terrified because he _couldn’t_ remember. Could not remember how he got to where he was, or how the past few weeks had passed right through him like a ghost. The last thing he did remember clearly was being in a what seemed like a basement, Skinner had given him water, and Malcolm had tried talking him out of doing whatever he had planned to do. 

Ever since then, there were bits and pieces. But one feeling had stood out above all the other fragments of memory; Panic. He had felt so scared of everything, like something was pulling at his soul, warning him for every second of everyday that something was coming. Vaguely he remembered when his friends had visited him, when he tried to run away, when they shoved a G-Tube down through his nose, but it was all behind thick glass, and no matter how much Malcolm had banged on it, it wouldn’t break. 

Ruby had explained where he was, what he had gone through. He didn’t really believe her at first, but the longer he thought about it, the longer it made sense. The panicked feeling, the way he couldn’t focus or understand or remember. 

Most people remembered about 50 percent of their episodes, so it made sense. It really did. 

With every check up Ruby had asked him how he was feeling, and with every check up he told her fine. She asked questions he knew were directed at finding out if he was still in a psychotic episode, but he answered truthfully. No, he didn’t feel like he was being followed or monitored or like anybody was coming to do him harm. No, he didn’t feel like he had special powers or was on a mission or was god. No, his thoughts weren’t scrambled around like eggs, and yes, he could think clearly and focus. 

With every check up, whether he went with Gil or mother or both, they seemed more and more relieved, and Malcolm wondered what they had seen, what they had been through.

On his fourth week, they had started to talk about release, and Malcolm could feel days of uncertainty wash away slightly. He didn’t know how long they would keep him in there, and he was starting to feel suffocated between the white walls. 

They talked about medication and taking him off of it. He would have withdrawal symptoms if they didn’t do it slow, so even after release, he would take them, slowly dropping the dose every few weeks. They would also do more check ups to see that the psychotic symptoms weren’t returning. Malcolm didn’t mind it as long as it meant he was out of there.

A day later mother had informed him that there had been a murder, and that the team wouldn’t be able to visit as much as they were busy with work. Malcolm itched to get out there, to help Gil solve a mystery. He hadn’t done that in so long, he thought he might go insane, again. But he stayed, and didn’t make a fuss, because he knew Gil wouldn’t have let him anywhere near a crime scene even if he was released already. 

The days that followed were even more boring, the feeling contrasting with the anticipation of leaving any day now.

For people that had nothing else to do, it was surprisingly difficult to find something to talk about. Malcolm, Abigail, Hannah, Ken and a new patient that came in a few days ago, Simon, were now sitting at one of the tables, eating lunch. Malcolm had learned Abigail practically adopted new patients that came in, hence Simon sitting with them. He also learned that she was admitted for depression and suicidal tendencies, and was here the longest out of all of them, which he didn’t feel great about. She was one of the kindest people he ever met, and really couldn’t comprehend the fact that she didn’t want to live. Hannah had schizophrenia, and was admitted a few days before Malcolm. He didn’t know what Ken and Simon have been admitted for, as they didn’t want to share, but he suspected Simon had been there for a suicidal attempt as well. 

The conversation somehow ended up being on their passions in life. Abigail had said she always wanted to be an artist. Malcolm remembered seeing her draw in a sketchbook sometimes, and was always curious to know what she drew. He didn’t pry, though. Ken had a passion for gardening. Malcolm couldn’t see it. When it got to him, Malcolm had said he pretty much lived on solving crimes.

At dinner, they debated wether cereal is soup. 

Dani showed up just as Malcolm was trying to open up Abigail’s and Simons's minds to the possibility, even though he didn’t really know the answer.

“Dani!” Malcolm waved. “Do you think cereal is soup?” 

“What kind of a question is that?” Dani raised her eyebrows, smiling, “Of course not.” 

Malcolm grimaced, defeated. 

“How you feeling?” She asked, and he smiled at her. More visitors were coming in now, so Malcolm excused himself as he and Dani moved to a different table. 

“Fine,” he answered.

“Gil and your mom are talking to your psychiatrist.” Dani said, and leaned back in her chair. “They’ve gotten pretty close, ever since, you know,” 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them. He didn’t know what think of that. He changed the subject.

“Anything about the case?” If he didn’t know Dani any better, he’d say she smiled cockily.

“We got him. It was the secret boyfriend. Shocker.” Malcolm laughed. 

“How’d you do without my profile?”

Dani smiled turned more gentle. “We missed you, Bright.” 

Malcolm snorted, “I’m sure JT didn’t,”

“You’re not stupid, you know he did.” Malcolm smiled sheepishly at that. Before the heartfelt moment could pass, Gil and Jessica entered the lobby.

“Get your stuff, kid,” Gil’s eyes shone, “we’re ready to go.”

* * *

Getting out of the hospital was more freeing than he expected. The possibilities were endless. He could go anywhere, do anything. But when asked the question “where do you want to go?” The obvious answer was home.

Yet something pulled at his heart when he got into the car. It didn’t feel right, leaving a place you’ve been in for so long, especially when you were leaving a new friend behind.

He had waved and smiled his goodbyes to everyone, but stopped when his eyes landed on Abigail. He went in for a hug, even though they were’t allowed to touch, and breathed deeply, as if he could transfer all of his gratitude to her heart with every breath.

“I know you’re going through a tough time right now,” Malcolm let go, but held her hand, “I know how rocky it gets, how unstable. And I know that there’s a voice inside your mind that says that it’ll never get better. But it does. Even when everything is dark and you feel like you can’t do anything but lie down on the floor. Even if it takes all of you to keep crawling and grasping at hope. There _is_ light out there, and it’s searching for you, too. I know you can’t promise me to be better, or to stand up on both feet and take on the world, but I need you to promise me that, whatever happens, however rough it gets, you’ll keep going. You won’t let go. Don’t let go on me, Abigail.”

She was crying when he left, and as much as he wanted to, Malcolm didn’t look back. Abigail still had a way to go, but now was Malcolm’s time to head back. Back into his life. It may be full of chaos, but it was his chaos, and he was ready to face it. 

As ready as he’ll ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if this feels rushed or not, but it felt like a good place to end things. Let me know anyway! Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
